Retribution
by Nicholas Canning
Summary: Follow Silas Lochan, a Deathworld Veteran Sniper, as he fights through the war torn future of the 41st Millennium. Rated T for mature themes. My first fan-fic, R&R please
1. Chapter One

**Retribution**

Assassination

"Targets in sight. Load Inferno rounds. Attach silencer. Now pick your shots carefully; we don't want to go alerting the enemy of our position, now do we?" Deathworld Sniper Silas said rhetorically to himself as he lay on his stomach, peering through his optical sight at the camped Ork army. Silas had been lying here on this hilltop, under a brush of red ash so as not to be seen, for twelve hours now, waiting for the sun to set. Orbital reconnaissance had shown an advancing Ork army that had set up camp in a valley roughly 6000km north in a valley, making their way slowly through a large valley towards the main Imperial Command Camp here on Cannel. The Ork force had attempted to attack the Camp two weeks ago, and the camp was still waiting for reinforcements after they repelled the Ork force. The Imperial Tacticians in the camp had decided they would not be able to hold out if they were to be attacked again, so Silas had been tasked with the assassination of the Ork Warboss to slow down the Ork's advance to buy time so that reinforcements could arrive.

Silas snapped back to reality, and sighed at his wandering mind at this crucial moment of his mission. He sighed and wiped the condensation off of his custom-built optic sight, and looked back through it. The rain had been falling hard for two hours, and only recently stopped, although this didn't bother Silas much, nothing really did, except when it got in the way of his sight and his mission. When the sun went down, the fires in the ring would be lit, as well as around all the other buildings in the camp. He shifted his custom sniper rifle on the fold-out bipod to get a view of the rear of the Ork camp.

The sun was beginning to set behind the hills on the other side of the valley, which cast a blood red glow over the floor of the valley. _Fitting, _Silas thought as the glare from the sun shone in his sight, causing him to wince. He pulled back and adjusted the filter on his sight, and readjusted himself after the sudden shift in movement. Silas scanned the area, paying attention to every little detail.

The camp was massive; it stretched back up the valley for 500km, and spanned the width of the enormous valley. Clearly, this mission was crucial if the Imperial forces were to achieve a victory here on Cannel. Slap bang in the middle of the camp was a massive ring with tiered seats all around, in which every night; vicious battles took place between willing Orks. How they could fight each other at a time like this was unreal, barbaric, and just plain stupid. Reports had shown that they had just been sitting here for close to three weeks, not even bothering to move. Silas laughed lightly at how easy this mission had been to set up, and even better was that he would be promoted to Veteran status after the completion of this mission. It was all too easy for Silas.

Just then, the sun disappeared from sight, leaving the valley in darkness, but not for long. Soon after the sun went down, the Orks ignited the fires all around the camp, and the first ring battle had just begun, which was introduced by a roar from the bloodthirsty crowd. Silas panned his vision over the arena circle, and watched in amazement as ten, seven foot tall, inhumanly-muscled beasts ripped each other apart with an assortment of clubs, maces, and one even wielded a large metal ball on a chain. Silas scanned the crowd of the ring to try and spot the Warboss; he knew what he looked like. A computerised image had been created using accounts of survivors from the first attack who had seen the Warboss, and Silas had the only picture with him. He tore himself from his scope and looked at the picture again.

The Warboss had a large metal jaw-plate that jutted out in front of his top lip, and a scar that ran diagonally across his face. Silas had only requested a recreation of the Warboss' face, he wouldn't need anything else. One shot to the head would be enough to kill the Warboss. He took one last glance at the picture and looked back through his sight. He scanned the crowd for the Warboss' face, and eventually found it at the top of the tiered seating area. The Warboss was surely enough menacing. He was ten feet tall and surrounded by a group of even bigger Orks. He lightly pressed his finger against the trigger of his weapon, and then fired. He didn't even feel the barely noticeable recoil on the gun as the soft buttpad of the weapon hit his shoulder.

The bullet sped out of the extra-long barrel, silent, invisible to the naked eye, and extremely deadly. His right eye was fixed to his sight as he watched the Inferno round as it tore into the skull of the Warboss. At first, no one had noticed the slow trickle of blood seeping from between the Warboss' eyes, but soon, the oxy-phosphor gel ignited with the excess of air enclosing it, and the Warboss' head exploded into a swirling mass of flames. Not even a scream had escaped the Warboss' lips, it had been so fast. The whole fighting stopped as the confused Orks sat silently, staring at each other, and at the Warboss' headless carcass. As Silas had expected, the whole arena burst into fighting.

The Orks, enraged at the death of their Warboss, and because they didn't know it was an Imperial force that had killed their leader, began suspecting each other, and attacked everyone in sight viciously with their fists. Soon, the camp erupted in a mass of green bodies, flailing at each other wildly. Silas watched in pleasure as the fire-poles were toppled over, lighting the tents and ground all over the camp. Silas pulled the release trigger on the side of his weapon, and a small, barely audible click resounded from his weapon as it ejected the spent cartridge, and stripped a fresh cartridge from the 5 round Inferno magazine loaded into the gun. Silas was only supposed to halt the advance of the Ork army, but at this stage, the war would be over within the hour.

Silas got to his knees slowly so as not to be seen, though he highly doubted any Ork could see him from 2000 metres away. He folded away the bipod on the sniper rifle and detached the silencer, placing it perfectly into a pouch on the side of his tight-fitting, thermal-absorbent Cameoline trousers. He took out the magazine from the gun and placed it into a compartment on his Cameoline belt. Silas didn't bother with the cheap, weak flak armour, nor did he bother with any armour, in fact. He found armour to be a liability when doing covert missions, and Silas was always on covert missions, or at least far away from the main fighting anyway. He much preferred tight Cameoline tops and trousers, so loose bits of clothing wouldn't be caught and ripped by anything like branches, and he also had a layer of thermal-absorbent material incorporated into his clothes, to disguise his thermal signature. The Cameoline material would hide him in almost every possible condition, which Silas saw as a necessity.

Silas watched the fire and fighting as it tore apart the remaining Orks here on Cannel. He took his eye away from his scope and tapped the transmitter of the micro vox-link around his head, "This is Silas; the mission is a success, repeat; the mission is a success," Silas said, awaiting a reply.

"Silas? Thank god you're alive" It was a familiar voice, Tanith. Silas had known Tanith since he had first joined the Imperial Guard at age 15. She had been a simple trooper in the squad he had first been placed in. Over time, a relationship had developed, and as she began to show talent as a technological genius, and Silas was singled out as a sniper, they had not been able to see each other in quite some time. However, one mission a few years back, Silas was assigned Tanith as a Tactical Supporter, and has now been Silas' personal Tactical Supporter since. "What's the deal? Tell me what's going on" Tanith asked, calmly.

"Well, the Ork Warboss is dead, took an inferno round through the skull, then it burst into flames," Silas joked slightly, and heard a slight snicker coming from Tanith, he continued "And then the whole camp just started fighting, I can't see any possible way that these Orks are gonna live to see tomorrow, never mind attack the main HQ. These Ork's are the only remaining resistance left on this world, aren't they?"

"Uhhh...gimme a sec," Tanith said, followed by the sounds of clicking and fingers tapping keys on a control panel, "Looks like it; I can send you the Orbital photos if you want?" Tanith queried.

"That won't be necessary," Silas said, just before he squeezed the trigger of his sniper rifle, and a Hellfire round shot out of the barrel, speeding towards a group of fighting Orks. The hellfire lodged itself in one of the Orks' chests, and then exploded, sending thousands of needles impregnated with mutagenic acid into the Orks around him. Silas let out a sigh of joy at the spectacle, and Tanith broke over his vox-link again "Enjoying yourself are we? Anyway, would you mind snapping a couple pics of the battlefield for me? I'm about to file the report to command and I can't get any orbital reconnaissance photos, the fire down there is screwing with the Lightning aircraft night vision cameras."

"Sure thing, babe, on their way," Silas replied coolly. He liked to tease her by calling her babe; it was obvious she liked him. The feeling was mutual.

Silas continued firing at the remaining Ork stragglers, who were roaming about the camp, looking for others to fight. "Silas, I've just got word back from command, they say they're gonna..." Tanith paused, reading the newly received message, "They're gonna bomb that whole valley! You need to get out of there, they've declared a 4000 metre red zone, and you're 2000 metres inside that zone, they're starting in five minutes. I've just been denied permission to evac you via Valkyrie, looks like you'll just have to run it off."

By the time Tanith had finished talking, Silas had already collected what little equipment he had, and had already started running. He had set his watch for a five minute alarm, although if he didn't make it out the red zone, he wouldn't need it.

**Author's Note:** Well, this is my first fan-fic, I came up with the idea of a deathworld veteran sniper off the top of my head, and I intent to stick with this story for a while. However, I tend to change my mind about a lot of things, so this story might be put on hold and a new story could be started, I don't really know. Also, please, please, please reveiw, I have to know if I should continue, or whether I should have a beta-reader.

Also, the first part of the next chapter should be up very soon.


	2. Chapter Two, Part One

The Hunt Begins

Silas stormed into the briefing room, bolt pistol gripped tightly in his hand. He stared at the three faces sat staring at him from their large seats around a pentagonal table. He fired a shot that burst through the polished oak table, which exploded in the marble floor underneath, sending pieces of marble hurling at the officers' legs. They all yelped in pain and grabbed at their legs. Silas had heard bone break, and it pleased him. He slammed the door shut to get the men's attention, before sliding the hatch into place to lock the heavy metal door. "What are you-" One of the officers began to protest, before Silas shot the ceiling above him, and the bolt exploded, dropping white concrete onto the officer's head. The officer fell from his seat, "Get up!" Silas ordered, and the officer got back on his seat, clutching his bleeding head.

Silas began circling the officers, bolt pistol swinging deftly around a finger on his right hand. "Now," Silas began, smoothly, but with a touch of dominance, "I want to know what one of you fuckers ordered the air bombardment on the already destroyed Ork camp, hmm?"

The officers looked around at each other, not one of them speaking, every one looking equally guilty. An explosion rocked the ceiling as Silas' newly fired bolt blasted a hole in the ceiling above the table, and bits of plaster-white concrete rained down on the officers. "Maybe...you didn't understand me. I said; what one of you fuckers ordered the air bombardment...on the already destroyed...Ork...fucking...camp!" Silas bellowed at the men around the table. Once again the men stayed silent. "Ok, since none of you are willing to talk, through self pride or some other stupid fucking principal, I'm going to kill every single one of you. One by one, you will all slowly die, until I find out who ordered the bombardment, or you are all dead." Silas said menacingly. The officers began looking more nervous, and some were wiping at the beads of sweat beginning to trickle down their foreheads. "You," Silas said, pointing the barrel of the gun at one of officers. "Up," He said, signalling with his pistol. The man hesitantly stood up, and Silas could see his legs beginning to tremble. "Who ordered the bombardment?" He asked calmly. Silas began counting down out loud

"Ten"

Still the man stood there, knees trembling, perspiration making its way slowly down his forehead.

"Nine"

The man began looking about him, at his fellow command staff, looking for some kind of scapegoat that he wasn't going to receive.

"Eight"

Was the man stupid, did he want to die? If so, Silas would deliver it. He quickly squeezed the trigger on his bolt pistol. The bolt impacted on the man's left arm, and before he could scream, the man's arm had been blown off. Blood spattered the officers round the table as the one-armed man lay on the floor, clutching at his shoulder where his arm used to be. Silas walked over to the grounded man, and pressed the hot barrel of the pistol firmly against the man's right elbow. "Tell me, or I'll blow off your other arm," Silas said, not taking the hot barrel from the man's arm as he pleaded for mercy. Three seconds of screaming followed, before Silas pulled the trigger once more. The man's right arm was blown off, and Silas was covered in blood as the bullet exploded the arteries in the man's forearm, which soaked his bare upper body. Silas stood up, and rested his foot on the head of the armless, screaming man, before raising his foot, and slamming it on the officer's head. The large boots Silas was wearing easily crunched the officer's skull, and the other two officers cringed at the sound.

As he stood up, Silas took two fingers from his unarmed left hand, and wiped them across his bloodied chest. He walked over to stand behind one of the two remaining officers, before wrapping his massive hand around the officer's small neck. He lifted him out of his seat, turned the officer round to face him, and began pressing his thumb into the windpipe of the officer. "Are you going to tell me?" Silas asked, not lessening his pressure from the officer's throat. The man gave a weak nod, before Silas dropped him into a heap on the marble stone floor. The officer immediately grabbed at his left knee, which Silas presumed was the bone he heard breaking when he first entered the room.

"Speak! Before you aren't able to!" Silas bellowed over the incessant screaming by the officer. He violently kicked the officer in his ribs, before the officer gasped for air, clutching his chest. As the officer resumed breathing normally, he stopped screaming, which was what Silas had intended the kick to do. "Ok, I'll talk, could you help me up on to my chair?" the officer asked weakly. Silas then grabbed the officer by his arm and helped him on to his seat. "You, over here," Silas said to the other officer, pointing at a seat next to the other officer. He waited for the officer to sit before he signalled for the other to talk. "The man you're looking for is Lord General Militant Damon Insurgo. He left a few hours ago to...umm, I can't remember where to,"

"He was going to one of the worlds in the Ausus Sector, which world we don't know, he didn't say. Although, he seemed very excited about finally conquering this sector, so he could branch this crusade to the Ausus Sector." The second officer chimed in, which satisfied Silas. He took a fresh magazine for his bolt pistol, threw away the old one, and reloaded the new magazine. He stared at the two officers for a long time, who were looking at him with eyes that pleaded for mercy.

"Ca-...can we go now?" One of the officers finally broke the silence. Silas smiled, and shook his head. The two officer's eyes went wide as if they had just seen Horus himself, from the legends of the Great Betrayal. Silas levelled his pistol with one of the officer's foreheads, before squeezing off a shot, which exploded, and covered the remaining officer with the blood and bits of brain of his fellow officer. Silas raised the barrel of the pistol to meet the officer's right eye, before it was unexpectedly smacked away by the officer's hand. "No, I won't go without a fight!" The officer shouted, as he began punching Silas repeatedly in his chest. Silas laughed lightly, before punching the officer on the bridge of his nose, and he was sent flying into the wall behind him with a loud crack of pain as a few of his ribs broke from the impact.

Standing over the fallen officer, Silas emptied the remaining four bolts into his back, before stepping away as the officer horribly exploded. He exited the underground, sound-proof room to return to his private ship in orbit, where Tanith was waiting for him to return. It looks like this crusade is going to need a new General Staff.

**Author's Note: **This is one of a two-part chapter, which will be up sometime in the next week, hopefully before christmas.

In the next part of this chapter, I intent to be doing a lot of it in space, so if I make any mistakes - which I most likely will - please don't hesitate to tell me. I welcome criticism, as this is my first fan-fic, and I don't have a beta-reader, for the sole purpose of trying to make a decent story by myself just to see how it goes.


End file.
